


This Fever

by ailofidroc



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Both Canon and Alternate Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Music Video Universe, Oral Sex, Other people mentioned but do not appear, depending on how you interpret the terms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:22:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28680297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ailofidroc/pseuds/ailofidroc
Summary: He can say now that fucking yourself is nothing at all like masturbation.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Kim Hongjoong
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	This Fever

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to A who always answered "Yes" when I asked if anyone else was thinking about clonefucking.
> 
> This fic is based in the music video canon or at least my own interpretation of it.

The Man in White is an unexpected development.

That's what Hongjoong prefers to call these things instead of what they really are: inescapable clusterfucks. He's been trapped in a cascading series of them since the day he looked into the shadows beneath a black brim and saw eyes that matched his own. There's tension from the start, sparking hot between them. They aren't like Yunho and his counterpart off picking daisies or whatever the fuck the two nicest boys between two universes get up to together. Hongjoong meets himself and wants to slam his face into the ground.

It had been easier before. Different worlds, different goals and, most importantly, different ships. And then the Man in White comes along and fucks it all up.

****

The problem is that he's fucking annoying.

Not the way the others are. They are bright energy and noise and joy and life and so many things that Hongjoong left behind long ago. Their presence burns sometimes, an ache in the parts of himself he's half-forgotten. A memory of a time when he was more than a Captain. Or maybe less than one. It's hard to remember exactly what he was before.

His Other isn't loud laughter distracting him from his maps or silly pranks. He's a black hole swallowing everything around him with his presence. Leaning silently against a wall in the tiny room Hongjoong had commandeered to be his office, mask and hat covering everything except his eyes, focusing solely on Hongjoong. Always fucking staring. Waiting until the exact moment that Hongjoong presses pen to paper to make a vital note and then coughing or knocking a goddamn book to the floor or making some inane comment. Just to watch Hongjoong twitch, his surprise scrawled across the page in indelible ink. A visible trophy to the victor. He may be covering his face but Hongjoong can see the laughter in his eyes as he marks another point won in his head.

****

Sometimes Hongjoong stares back, cataloging the differences and similarities between them. At least the ones he can see. The Other is the only one that still insists on wearing the full ensemble, mask and all. Even on the too-hot days when the engines are working overtime and every breath feels like a lick of flame in your lungs. That, at least, Hongjoong can understand. Captains aren't meant to be comfortable.

He has a scar on his neck. It's a curious thing, a pink slash half-hidden behind hair and cloth and the glittering metal hanging from his left ear. It looks like a knife cut and Hongjoong wonders.

Hongjoong wonders about a lot of things. They aren't really the same as the others who blend among each other to varying degrees. The Jonghos are nearly indistinguishable these days. Sometimes they move in perfect sync, the exact same words spilling from their matching mouths as their hands flutter in identical patterns. In those moments they are undeniably the same person. Not lookalikes. Not twins. The same person divided into two matching pieces.

Hongjoong and his counterpart are barely the same person. They share a face and a duty and that's all. It's hard to believe they were born in the same place. Grew up the same way. Share the same family. Or maybe they don't.

"Do you have a brother?" Hongjoong asks. His Other self stares at him from his familiar spot against the wall, unblinking and silent. They don't talk to each other about personal details and Hongjoong already regrets asking. The silence draws out long and awkward. He clearly has no intention of answering. Hongjoong waits until he can no longer stand the echoing quiet and opens his mouth to tell him to forget the question, forget that he'd ever cared to ask. Of course that's what the Other had been waiting for.

"Yes," he replies simply, cutting Hongjoong off before he can speak. His eyes glitter and Hongjoong doesn't need to see his mouth to picture the smirk on his face. It's absolutely fucking maddening.

"Is it still self-loathing if I fucking hate you?" Hongjoong mutters in annoyance. He's not expecting a response but he gets one anyway. The self-satisfied laugh is infuriating, like everything else he does. It makes Hongjoong reckless.

Because the truth is that they are the same person, regardless of differences. Deep down they know each other as well as they know themselves.

"Can I suck your cock?" Hongjoong asks and neither of them is surprised.

"Took you long enough to ask," his Other self replies.

****

Wooyoung had brought it up at the start, what feels like a lifetime ago.

“If you fuck your Other self, is it just masturbation?” he had asked loudly at the dinner table just hours after the first meeting and then laughed along with everyone else. Hongjoong hadn’t laughed. It had already been lingering, a whisper in his head telling him that some things are inevitable and this is one of them. Knowing yourself can be a dangerous thing, especially when you aren’t the only one of you.

He can say now that fucking yourself is nothing at all like masturbation. 

He’s never felt the weight of his own cock on his tongue before. The hand cupping the back of his neck is a familiar size but the skin is rougher, criss-crossed by unfamiliar scars. He wants to explore further, find every physical difference with his fingers, his mouth. 

That will have to wait for another encounter, if there is one. This one falls straight into the quick and dirty category with trousers shoved down just far enough to get his cock out and into Hongjoong’s waiting mouth. It hadn’t taken long to coax it to full hardness. Not surprising after weeks spent with no privacy in close quarters with 15 other people on a ship barely meant for half that. 

A hand threads through his hair and tilts his head slightly upward until his eyes meet their matching pair. The Other had pulled off the mask at the start and Hongjoong can see him, see himself falling into pleasure. He swallows around the cock in his throat just to see his own mouth fall open with a gasp.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” his Other self says and the words spark through Hongjoong’s veins. He wishes he could freeze this moment in time, spend lifetimes here on his knees with words of praise echoing in his ears. 

“I’m going to fuck you over the table next time,” he hears through the haze. “Right on top of those books and star charts.”

Hongjoong pulls back suddenly, replacing his mouth with his hand, fingers gliding easily against spit-soaked skin. “Fuck you,” he snaps, glaring up at the Other. “Stop fucking with my maps.”

A short laugh is the only response and he lets his head be pulled back forward, swallowing him down again. The salty taste is strong across his tongue after the momentary respite. He dips his tongue into the slit, chasing more of the bitter liquid and relishes the sting in his scalp as the grip tightens in his hair.

Despite his wishes to the contrary, this encounter can’t last forever. The short inhalations of breath, the slight tremor of a thigh, the involuntary clench of a fist. Signs he knows well. There’s a tug on his hair, an attempt to pull him off, but he ignores it and presses forward. Bitter fluid spills hot and thick into his waiting mouth and he eagerly swallows it. Keeps swallowing until he’s gently pulled away.

He stares up at himself from his knees, feeling hesitation for the first time. He’d been carried this far by confidence in his own desires mirrored in his Other self but he’s not sure what to say now that those desires have been fulfilled.

“I wanted to come on our face.”

Heat floods Hongjoong at the words, muttered by his counterpart with a slight pout as tucks himself away and re-clasps his trousers. He’s still so fucking hard, his own cock left untouched in his pants as he’d devoted himself to his task. He could take care of himself now, jerk himself off fast and rough onto the floor.

But.

He gets to his feet, leaning down to rub at his sore knees. “Next time,” he says, more a hope than a promise. Their journey has been unpredictable at the best of times. He knows better than to expect anything.

His Other self hums in response, eyes flickering up from where they’d been focused below Hongjoong’s belt, where he can feel himself wet and aching.

“Did you get what you wanted?” he asks.

Had Hongjoong gotten what he wanted? _No_ , he thinks.

He grabs the Other’s coat and pulls him in closer, the brim of that ridiculous hat knocking awkwardly against his forehead as he presses their lips together. He tastes like nothing. Or perhaps they merely taste the same to his tongue.

“Yes,” Hongjoong answers as he pulls away. He turns back to his desk, absently organizing his papers until he hears the soft click of the door and he’s left alone in silence. He sinks into his chair with a heavy sigh. He feels hot, unsettled, unsatisfied.

They have a long journey ahead of them. He grabs a pen and gets back to work.


End file.
